Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/250

222 The three days' hunt is waxing warm

For the Count Up Dinner at Riverside Farm

In Tyringham, Tyringham Valley.

The meadow-ice will be freezing soon,

And then for a skate by the light of the moon.

So pile the wood on the hearth, my boy!

Winter is coming! I wish you joy

By the light of the hearth and the moon, my boy,

In Tyringham, Tyringham Valley.

ELSIE

you love me?" Elsie asked,

And her rose-leaf dimples masked

'Neath a pleading look, the while

On her pouting lips a smile

Hovered, yet was out of sight

Like a star that's hid at night

By a filmy, flying cloud.

Do you love me?" scarce aloud

Lovely Cousin Elsie said.

Why no answer, Cousin Ed?

Do you hate me, then, or why

From Your Highness no reply?"

So the chiding witch ran on:

In a moment I'll be gone;

Then too late, Sir No Gallant!

Quick! I'll tell my precious aunt

That you love me not," she cries,

That you hate me and despise."

Flash the great, gray, long-lashed eyes;

Half in earnest now the girl;

Down the pretty corners curl